Trapped Inside
by uglyducklingdrabbles
Summary: The Tower is a high-class society, built on the idea that selfishness is ideal for survival. Felicity Smoak is unlike the other residents of The Tower; she's selfless, and intelligent. As her journey continues, and as she explores the world outside, everything starts becoming blurry as answers begin to unfold. Eventual OLICITY.
1. Trapped Inside

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

_The clock was ticking its life away. The room was white – it looked as though a cheap bottle of white out threw up. There were machines, and no windows or doors. It was as if this room, this sole "box" was nonexistent. The smell of lemon permeated the room. There were whispers. Heat coursed through my body. I tried mustering words, but nothing would escape._

"Smoak, wake up."

A voice sprung me awake from my twin bed. My blue eyes shot open. I was staring at a blurry mirage of my best friends face. The room was bright, the sun peeking out from the windows.

"Tommy?" It came out in a groggy muffle. "What time is it?"

"Seven." He had a backpack, which appeared to be filled to its full capacity. He wore his usual black leather jacket and distressed jeans. "Get dressed. We need to leave."

I slowly got up and searched for my square-rimmed glasses, which were resting on my nightstand. Placing them on my nose, I saw a clear image of Tommy's worried face. He was pacing, and jittering. "Mind explaining to me what's going on?"

A sigh escaped his lips. "They found out you hacked the system. My father is coming down here right now to bring you to The Box."

A sharp pain shot up my chest and I winced.

The Box. Uncharted territory. Isolation. Death. No one spoke of The Box, because speaking of The Box is a crime in of itself. No one alive besides Commander Meryln has seen it. It's only for those with a reserved death wish.

"What if he kills me right away? What if he kills me on the way there? Do I fake dead? Do I try to talk myself out of it? What-"

"Felicity." Tommy's calloused hands were now on my bare shoulders, a small piece of cloth from my tank top the only barrier. "You are going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine."

We were hugging. It was warm, and almost melted my fears away. Almost.

"What is the plan?" I asked, not entirely sure what a plan formed by Tommy Merlyn would do, considering his IQ level. I always gave the guy credit, though. He had his unbelievably brilliant moments.

"The outside; we can run and live on the outside."

Apparently this wasn't one of them.

"Are you out of your mind?" I was the one pacing now; I proceeded to sweep my blonde locks into a ponytail.

"Think about it. Everyone is afraid of the outside, therefore they won't go looking for us there. You and I both know my father would never leave The Tower in a million years."

I grabbed some clothes from my four-drawer dresser and proceeded to the bathroom. Moments later, I walked out with a black dress and jacket. My flats seemed impractical, given the idea that we were going to run, but I didn't own anything else.

"Let's say we do implement this plan, then what? We hide out in the forest for the rest of our lives, hoping not to get caught?" Tommy held out his backpack as I placed items inside.

"We'll figure it out. We make a pretty good team, Smoak." He smiled and gave my arm a squeeze. Tommy and I had known each other since we were kids. Our friendship just came really naturally.

Just as we were about to leave my room, the door was flown from its hinges. Next thing I knew, I was being handcuffed and gagged, Tommy's cries echoing behind me.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The clock was ticking its life away. The room was white – it looked as though a cheap bottle of white out threw up. There were machines, and no windows or doors. It was as if this room, this sole "box" was nonexistent. The smell of lemon permeated the room. There were whispers. Heat coursed through my body. I tried mustering words, but nothing would escape.

A single camera was placed in the left-hand corner of the room; a flashing red light was the only source of color amidst the white-washed walls. A sharp, searing pain ran up my chest, and I winced. After the pain subsided, I felt something sharp in my hands; it was a knife.

"What the-" I thought. How did it appear?

I had no time to react, for I was rapidly attempting to cut myself free. Looking at the camera, the previously red flashing light was no longer. There was a blank expression.

I got up and ran to the door. Guards passed by into the next corridor, so I carefully made my way out. My judgement was poor however, because I heard a "PRISONER BREACH. ALL AVAILABLE UNITS NEEDED" shouted behind me.

I ran. I built up a map in my mind, creating a blueprint of the layout of The Tower. As many times as I have mapped out the secrets of this place, I always knew the exact location of one door: the exit.

I hid inside an equipment storage room, pressing my ear against the door.

"Which way you think she went?"

"No idea. Boss isn't going to be happy."

"He still needs to know we lost her."

I heard a beep; a guard activated his communication watch.

"Boss, we lost the escapee. We think she went through one of the passages. She knew where they all were. She worked in technologies."

On the other end of the line, their boss sounded distressed. The slamming of a table seemed to follow.

"You two idiots need to find her. I don't care what it takes. You find her, and bring her to me."

"Yes, Master Merlyn."

I watched the guards, clad in navy uniforms and helmets that hid their dopey expressions, walk the opposite direction. When they proceeded out of my sight, I opened the door quietly. I was off.

It didn't take me long to reach the exit. I stood in front of it for a few seconds, before turning to the alarm box.

The benefit of working in technologies was knowing the codes for all the restricted doors. Every door had a unique code, like it had it's own identity. The code for the exit door was one I wrote down in my notebook a hundred times. Sometimes I knew it better than I knew myself.

I entered the code "3 1 2 6" and the system shut off. With shaking hands and a heavy heart, I opened the door.

There was green. Immense amounts of green. I started laughing, bending over and feeling the grass between my fingers. I removed my flats and held them between my hands. I turned around and saw the massive, grey tower before me. My free hand rested on the rough cement. I turned back around and let out a relieved sigh.

"I'm sorry, Tommy." I whispered.

My feet acted before my mind, and before I could gather my thoughts, I was walking.

The bottoms of my feet quickly became scratched and calloused. It didn't hurt; it felt good. I was free of rules, and of restrictions. I was free of the notion that acting for myself and myself only was the only way to survive. .free.

Minutes passed before I stopped, basking yet again in the vast forest. Suddenly, with one final step, I was swooped up into a net, which was hanging from a tree.

My blue eyes glanced down at the ground. I let out a gasp.

A fairly tall man, dressed all in green, a hood resting atop his head, was wielding a bow. He was aiming an arrow straight at me.


	2. Allies

My heart sunk. My breath became staggered. The look on this man's face was shrouded with intimidation. Staying calm didn't seem possible anymore.

"Comfortable?" His voice came out in a deep growl. A mask covered his eyes. This mystery was purposely trying to separate himself from others.

"Who are you?" I was genuinely curious. This tall specimen dressed to match the forest looked at me behind broken eyes; there was a hint of... Remorse?

"I should ask you the same question. What's a resident of The Tower doing on the outside? Did you finally get tired of being a robot?"

My lips formed into a thin line. Pain shot up my torso and I winced, ignoring the feeling.

"Very funny." There was almost an alarming tone of humility in my voice that I didn't recognize. "Now, how about you stop pointing that arrow at me and cut me down?"

Not a wince. The only thing moving were his eyes; they were blinking rapidly behind his black mask.

"Not. A. Chance." His answer was broken. Clearly this mystery didn't trust residents of The Tower. Actually, he probably didn't trust anyone. Residents of The Tower never made it to the outside. I was the first.

"Please. I'm not here to.. burn down your forest or whatever it is you think I'm here to do."

Something alarming happened. He smiled; a slight movement of his mouth was witnessed. He did care, he was just playing a part.

"I don't associate with your kind." The roughness was back. That glimmer of hope vanished. His hood became his security yet again.

"My kind?" I asked, wanting to hear whatever explanation this warranted.

All this time, his bow was never lowered. The arrow stayed firmly aimed at my face; with one sudden move, it would pierce my eye.

"Stuck up. Careless. Selfish. _Murderous_." That last one resonated with me. If he thought we were murderous, that meant…

He wasn't going to kill me.

I shifted slightly, changing my position, readying myself for an upcoming parlet.

"The fact you think we're murderous means you're not going to kill me, which leaves you with two options: let me go and never see me again, or let me go and have me tag along. It's really up to you. You're not the one tied up."

A stretch of silence filled the forest. It remained for quite some time. The arrow never lowered. His expression never faltered. It had seemed that time had stopped, until….

With one swift motion, the mystery man shot the arrow at the rope tied around the tree, causing me to hit the forest floor with a loud 'thud'.

"It's your lucky day, princess. I'm going to offer you a deal."

I slowly got to my feet, readying myself in a position that would allow me access to run if need be.

"A deal? Why?"

He was facing me now. I could get a better look at his face; scruff decorated his chin and under his nose. He was handsome. His eyes were piercing. His face was one that was not going to leave my head for quite some time.

This mystery stood facing me for quite some time. No words were exchanged; it seemed as if he were studying me, trying to figure out why, exactly, he decided to make a deal, as if he had not initially known from the start.

"Because you can help me." He pointed to the patch on my jacket, which read "Tower Technologies" in bold print. "The computer back at our base has been compromised. We haven't been able to find someone capable enough to fix it."

I adjusted the glasses atop my nose and crossed my arms over my chest. "What makes you think I'll be able to fix it?"

"My gut instinct is pretty strong."

More silence filled the air. A response followed much later.

"If I help you, can I stay.. with your people? I don't have anywhere else to go."

"We'll see." He turned and started walking. "I suggest you follow me. You don't know your way around these woods."

I followed his lead. We wove through the forest; he blended in with the trees, and I stood out like a sore thumb.

"So.. what should I call you? I don't exactly know your name."

He laughed. "We're not there yet. Keep walking."

Figures. I knew he wouldn't open up. That computer was the key to breaking this guys' walls down.

He then asked a question that alarmed me.

"What's yours?" After I didn't respond, he clarified. "Name. What's your name?"

I smiled. He wasn't a villain. He was just protecting his home. "Felicity," I said, with all the happiness and light I could manage.

We made it to his camp in fifteen minutes. There was an abundance of people: workers, fighters, mothers and fathers. It wasn't just a camp, it was a lifestyle.

"This way." He led me to a tent, where guards were posted outside.

"She's with me boys. I think she can fix our computer. She is not to be harmed, understand?"

They nodded. So he was the leader. I figured. Everyone had a look of triumph on their face when he entered the camp.

We walked through the tent to three sets of eyes staring straight at me.

"Is that who I think it is?" The tall brunette chimed. She was skinny, but pretty, with long limbs and mermaid hair. "Why is a Tower resident in our camp, Ollie?"

Ollie. I could finally put a name to a face.

The look he gave to this girl was one of aggravation and annoyance. "She's here, Laurel, because she's going to try to fix the computer."

I walked towards the machine and studied it for some time. Computers were like people. Press the wrong button and everything goes berserk. I plugged in the ancient artifact and started typing as fast as my fingers could go; this machine was clearly ransacked from somewhere, looking at how old it actually was. After a few minutes of combing through broken patches and minor viruses, the computer sprang back to life.

"Voila! Good as new." I smiled. The short brunette with shoulder length hair, and the intimidating black male gave me a look of disbelief, and wonderment jumbled together.

'Ollie' sped over to me and just stared; his eyes never left the screen.

"Well?" Laurel finally broke the silence.

"She did it. It's fixed." He slowly lowered his hood. He turned my way and smiled.

"Oliver Queen. Welcome to our camp." He extended a gloved hand, and I took it, sealing our deal with a handshake.

The other two introduced themselves: the short brunette was Thea, his younger and headstrong sister. The male was John, but everyone referred to him by his last name, Diggle.

Laurel immediately left the room.

"Don't mind her. She's never been good with newcomers. She'll warm up to you." Oliver placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it slightly, which sent electrodes through my body.

I smiled at the bustle of the camp. I could definitely get used to this.


	3. Masked Fear

_A continuous beeping sound infiltrated my ears; it matched the stoic beating of my heart. A strong, lemony scent whisked past my nostrils, making my closed eyes water. I heard whispers, but couldn't make out the words being said. Pain shot up my chest, causing me to attempt an unintelligible scream._

"Wake up. Felicity." My eyes shot open. Thea was standing over me, her hands on both my bare shoulders.

"Thea?" My voice was a broken, muffled whisper.

"Oliver is talking with some outsiders. We need you to be alert." I nodded and watched Thea leave my tent. It had been two months from when I initially took refuge at this camp. Two months of constant fear of identification and realization.

"You need to leave, before things turn ugly." I heard Oliver's abrupt voice as I walked out of my tent, placing my jacket on my shoulders in the process.

"I just want to have a look around." The man had an accent. I didn't have time to distinguish the origin before a hand was placed on my forearm, dragging me behind some crates laying next to the tent.

"You can't be out in the open like this." It was John Diggle. He had a gun strapped to his pants, and a brown leather jacket. An earpiece was placed inside his ear.

"I don't follow." The sudden urge of everyone to protect me startled my conscience. Why did everyone care so suddenly?

"That man, that's speaking with Oliver, heard of a resident of The Tower that managed to escape. He's in charge of bringing any outsiders back to where they came from, otherwise they face a fate worse than death."

I winced at the pain in my stomach, which managed to dissipate within seconds.

"What's the plan, Diggle? I can't just hide out here all day."

He never made eye contact with me, but just by the way he was carrying himself, you could tell a plan was already set in stone.

"Keeping you safe. You are not to leave this camp."

The tall man, clad in all black, weapons strapped to every crevice, eventually left the camp, a warning issued Oliver's way. He left without a look back.

Oliver turned around and locked eyes with mine. He slightly motioned his head towards my tent. Diggle and I followed him seconds later.

"I was afraid this was going to happen." He placed his calloused hands on the table in front of us, and hung his head.

"Why did you take the chance, then?" His head shot up. His eyes glued to mine; my heart started beating rapidly.

"What?" Diggle crossed his arms, preparing for an eruption of fire and brimstone.

"Why did you take me in if you had a feeling this was going to happen? Why did you take that chance, Oliver?"

A few moments passed before a response was sent my way. After the words spilled from my mouth, his face automatically softened. Diggle left shortly after.

"Felicity…"

I came to his side, staring at him with my closed off demeanor. My arms were crossed, and I felt dismissive.

"You need to be open with me, Oliver. You made the decision to bring me here. YOU. No one else. There had to have been some reason behind it, besides wanting me… wanting me to fix your stupid computer."

Suddenly, he looked at me with all the care in the world. His voice was almost inaudible. It was soft and almost defeated.

"It's going to sound crazy…"

I laughed. "I come from The Tower, Oliver. Crazy is practically my middle name. I can handle it."

A gloved hand came to my shoulder. He squeezed it. His eyes never left mine.

"I felt like I knew you, like we had met before. You're different than your friends from The Tower. You have heart."

"I don't follow."

There was still eye contact. There was still power emanating from his face.

"I wanted to give you your best chance."

With that, he was gone. He left in a flash, without even a look back in my direction.

I went to my tent and got in bed. My eyes slowly closed, and I drifted off to sleep.

_I was standing on a balcony; a city skyline enveloped me on all sides. The sounds of cars and sirens decorated the air. Lights flickered on and off. I was looking out at the city, smiling to myself. Moments later, the sound of footsteps erupted behind me. _

"_I probably shouldn't be surprised that you're late." There was laughter in my voice._

"_Hello, Miss Smoak." _

_That voice._

_I abruptly turned. It wasn't who I was expecting. It was him; the person that had caused me terror and fear for months. He was donned in a black hood, and had arrows and a quiver strapped to his back. The city had given him a nickname that innately stuck: The Dark Archer._

"_What the hell are you doing here?" The laughter had dissipated. All that was left was fear. I didn't know how this was going to end._

"_I'm here to do something I should've done a long time ago."_

"_Get down!" I heard a familiar voice yell. It was Oliver._

_I ducked as Oliver jumped down from the roof. Him and my enemy started fighting, green hood against black. Arrows flew around me. _

_Oliver managed to grab me, and we zip lined to the ground. Not much time passed before the Dark Archer followed us. _

_We were only on Oliver's motorcycle for two minutes before a loud gunshot erupted, and I was sent to the ground. _

_Blood seeped through my dress. Pain sourced through my chest. My eyes were riddled with tears._

_Oliver quickly came over and picked me up, sending me to the nearest ally. _

"_No no no no no. You're okay. Everything's going to be okay." His tone was fearful and broken._

_My manicured nails slowly met his face. I managed to scrape out a smile._

"_Thank you for giving me my best chance."_

_My eyes closed, and darkness filled my mind._


	4. Reverberation

"_Keep your eyes closed."_

_My manicured nails were covering Oliver's eyes. I was leading him down to the foundry, where I had set up a picnic. Decorations adorned the ceiling. The fern was alive and well, and sat on one of the chromatic tables._

"_Where are we going, Felicity?"_

"_Sssh. One minute." I smiled to myself, even though I knew he could not see. _

_After a few struggles and laughs later, I released my hands._

"_Okay. Open."_

_I jumped back and soaked in the sight before me. The smile on his scruffed face expanded my heart to its full capacity. He turned to me, arms reaching my way, and let out a breathy laugh, followed by his signature, award-winning smile. _

"_This is amazing. You really outdid yourself."_

_We exchanged a kiss. "Of course I did. It's your birthday."_

_We stood there in each others arms for what felt like an eternity. However, neither of us were the next ones to speak._

"_As much as I love this moment, I'm afraid it has to end."_

"Felicity."

A sweet, buttery voice said my name as I was awoken from my trance. I gripped my chest, pain resting there for a few moments.

"Hmm?"

Oliver crossed his arms over his muscular chest. He was standing as though he wanted to take over the entire forest, but maybe was apprehensive.

"Were you listening to me? I asked you to take a shot at that tree." He pointed to the far distance.

I shook my blonde head and sighed. With shaking hands, I grabbed a bow that was resting on the leafy floor. The quiver already made a home on my back. I reached behind me and slowly got into position. Oliver had been teaching me the "ways of an archer" as he had put it so coherently. He had mused that "anyone can learn how to shoot a bow and arrow. It's how you choose to shoot the bow and arrow that makes the difference."

"Focus." I whispered to myself, hoping to allot some hope into my head before I completely lost my sanity. I needed to screw my head on straight. I hadn't slept for the past couple days, for the pain in my chest was intensifying with every slumber.

I caught a glimpse of Oliver out of the corner of my eye. He was growing impatient, for he had shifted his weight and was now resting his weight on his left hip.

I initiated my stance; my mouth acted as my anchor as I placed my right hand near it, my flesh feeling cold and crisp. I loosened the grip my left hand had on the bow. My eyes found the tree I was aiming for. Without a moment's hesitation, I let the arrow fly.

I heard the sound of punctured wood. The arrow had nestled itself directly in the middle of a tree knot. Bullseye.

"I'm quite impressed, princess. You did it. Well done." He ran towards the arrow, ripping it away from it's target. He placed it in the palm of his calloused hand and pushed it my way. "As a token of your success."

My hands were no longer shaking as I took the arrow. I ran my fingers over the head; I felt the dents and the scars. Looking at this broken, damaged arrowhead felt like I was looking in a mirror.

I scraped back the surfacing tears and swallowed my butterflies. I heard a muffled "ahem" from over my shoulder.

"As much as I love this moment, I'm afraid it has to end." He was looking back at me now, his left arm extended, as if he wanted me to take it. I found myself stumbling back a few paces from his words.

"What?" He asked, obviously seeing the alarm written on my features.

"N-nothing. I think I just heard that phrase somewhere." I grabbed his extended hand harder than I thought possible. "Let's go.

With that, we gathered up our supplies and trekked back to camp. Thea, Laurel, and Diggle were all waiting for us in the supply tent. However, a head peeked out from above their half-moon formation.

"Felicity.. there's someone here to see you."

I slowly placed my equipment down. My eyes met Oliver's, and we exchanged a sincere nod. All four walked out. Standing before me was my best friend from The Tower, a one Tommy Merlyn. His features had not changed: same goofy grin, same muscular physique, same glittering eyes. Only this time, he was aiming a gun straight at my face.

"Hey Smoak. We need to talk."

"_She's going to be okay. She's a fighter." _

"_I know. I still feel like it's my fault."_

"_You did everything you could. None of this is your fault. We know who is to blame."_

"_I wonder what's going on inside her head. I wonder what she's thinking."_

"_Me too, Ollie. Me too."_


	5. The Queen and Her Court

"_She's going to be okay. She's a fighter." He was standing outside her room, stance resembling that of a tall oak. His friend was beside him, features muddled into a worried gaze._

"_I know. I still feel like it's my fault." His friend's eyes were watery, for tears had been falling from both their eyes for as long as this whole ordeal was in motion. Tears seemed to be the only thing he knew._

"_You did everything you could. None of this is your fault. We know who is to blame."_

_Blame. A strong word used for strong people. Blame was like a roaring lion in the jungle, pissed off at its surroundings. The blame was a fire unable to be extinguished. The blame was an earthquake. The blame was the reason she was hooked up to machines for the past couple months. The blame was his nemesis._

"_I wonder what's going on inside her head. I wonder what she's thinking." _

_His friend changed her stance; she was now, too, standing as still as an oak, expression now firm with distaste and sorrow._

"_Me too. She's probably kicking butt in there." There was a laugh. It sounded forced, as though any ounce of happiness were contagious. Happiness did seem to be a disease, curable by tender loving darkness._

_His friend left after a long stretch of silence. He waited there, outside her room, watching her. He'd been in this same position for months now. It was the same routine. He loved his new routine. _

"_If she were here right now, she'd tell you to stop wallowing." _

_Another friend of his walked up. He gathered that his friends thought he needed the company, like he was going to break even at the utterance of her name. They thought he was weak. He believed they were right._

_He watched her again. Her icy blue eyes were delicately closed. Her hair was neatly arranged in a dainty braid, cascading over her right shoulder. Machines and wires surrounded her bed._

"_She's fighting in there. Even if we don't know what's inside her head, we know she's fighting."_

_He sighed. He alleviated his pressure off the window and crossed his arms over his rapidly beating heart. His friend was at his side, offering some sort of reassurance during this crack in his psyche. _

"_What if they pull the plug? What if they decide she's not worth it? I wouldn't be able to live with that."_

_A hand met his shoulder now. His rock-hard stature was broken, and he crumbled under defiance._

"_They won't. They have faith, just like we do. Everything is going to be fine."_

_He ripped away from his friend. He felt as though he had been hit by a semi. Every ounce and crevice in his body ached. Ached for her smile. Ached for her touch. Ached for her to be present in the world again. _

_His hands flew over his face and he massaged his temples. Doctors and nurses walked by, not glancing his way._

"_How do you KNOW. It's been three months. They said there's been no improvement."_

_His friend walked toward him, simultaneously crossing his arms. _

"_You and I both know she's coming out of this alive. The only question is if you're strong enough to believe it."_

_He found his hands disappearing inside his jean pockets. He wished he could be like his hands and hide in the darkness until his light resurfaced, until all this darkness finally dissipated._

"_This has nothing to do with my strength. This has to do with her not being with us right now. This has to do with HIM and his stupid plan. She is in there for something that she didn't do."_

"_That may be," His friend was standing firm. He had not moved his stance. "but what do you think she would say to him, right in this very moment?" Blink. "Would she be resentful?" Blink. "Would she be angry?" Blink. Blink. "Would she scream?"_

_He pondered the questions at hand. He knew her, knew how she operated. He knew how she handled situations like this, ironically enough. _

"_She would accept him. She wouldn't be resentful, because she would understand his reasoning behind his actions. She wouldn't be angry, because she would be exuding some other emotion, to mask her internal anger. She would wait until she was in the comfort of her apartment, or mine, to scream." He walked closer to his friend. A face-off was at hand._

"_You win, then. You know her, even though she's not here to see. Word of advice? Don't do anything stupid."_

_His friend walked down the endless hallway. He turned his attention back to the clear glass separating him and his strength. _

"_What are you thinking?" It came out in a whisper only audible to himself. _

_He felt his composure weakening. He couldn't look at her and not break down. _

"_We'll get him. We'll get him, and we'll do everything we can to have you be there the day we do. My heart's set on it."_

_The two of them, himself and HER, his light at the end of his tunnel of a life, were like a forest fire, igniting their surroundings all at once, then moments later, whispering sweet nothings in the darkness. Smoke covering dark ash. The forest taken down by the ignition, then surrendering to the smoke, as if it were his queen. _

_Their friends often referred to them as royalty. Jokingly, he would apply her with a nickname. "I love you, princess." he would comply, making her feel just how much she truly meant to him._

_Her royal subjects were currently weak. They were feeling lost. He needed to build the team back up, so when she arrived, they would be ready to take back the night._

_The night that they focused so hard on protecting._

_Protecting from people like HIM._

_The dark archer._


	6. Odds and Ends

Tommy Merlyn, MY Tommy Merlyn; the same guy I've been friends with since second grade, was pointing a gun straight at my face. Goosebumps arose on my arms, and chills ran through my body. The shooting pain in my chest reappeared, but dissipated after a few moments. I slowly raised my hands for defensive purpose.

I watched his face. He looked worried, as though he were afraid of shooting the gun accidentally. My anxiety melted away slightly. He wasn't here to kill me. He was here because he HAD to be. Someone forced him to come and scare me.

"Tommy… what's going on?" I tried taking measured breaths to slow down my accelerated heartbeat. "Is the gun really necessary?"

"Smoak, I need you to listen to me." His hands were shaking, now, with every exaggerated word out of his mouth. My anxiety rushed back. "There is a Tower spy in your camp. She's the one that tipped off my father to your whereabouts. Her and her sister have been reporting back to us."

I looked over my shoulder at the opening to the tent. Light shone through, even though my insides felt dark and damaged. I managed to squeak out a sigh. "That's impossible."

I alleviated the pressure in my arms by crossing them, not taking my eyes off Tommy. He never once changed stance. He was a statue, frozen in time because of a demon called fear.

"I can prove it. I have a photo." He slowly lowered the gun, reaching into the worn pocket of his skinny jeans. He was wearing the same dark color palette as when I left him just six months earlier, only this time, the badge on his jacket had changed. It appeared he had been promoted to Tower Finance, from his previous post of maintenance.

The photo found it's way in front of me seconds later. I grabbed it and glanced down. The photo was of a blonde and a taller brunette, both pretty, both having similar features. One clearly looked older than the other. They were faces I knew all too well.

"No… No. It can't be."

I tore away my glasses from my face and rubbed my temples, hoping that my vision was playing tricks on me. I placed my glasses back where they belonged, and glanced at the photo once more.

"Do you recognize them?"

"Yes." I swallowed hard. "The blonde is Sara, and the brunette… the brunette is her sister, Laurel."

_It was a cold December night. The heels of my shoes click-clacked with every step on the icy, dark street. Tommy and I had just finished our monthly dinner, where we divulged secrets in our love lives. Tommy was clad in a warm, grey coat, whilst I was in tights, heels, a skirt, and my blue jacket. Coffee remained in our hands, sending warmth to our bodies._

"_So tell me, Smoak. When did you KNOW." He took a sip of his Cafe Americano and looked my way, raising his eyebrows. _

"_Know what?" I shrugged, not knowing the insinuation._

"_When did you know Oliver was the one? How long did it take you?"_

_There was a silence in the air for quite some time. It was a healthy silence, one that wasn't filled with tension or awkward responses. It was comfortable._

"_It depends. I had a crush on him instantly." I heard Tommy laugh. "That feeling of love, of knowing you can't live without the other person, though? That happened later. It happened after Slade was defeated."_

_I looked his way; he was smiling to himself, taking another long sip of his coffee in retaliation. "What about you? When did you have that feeling with Laurel?"_

_I saw his features strain, as if he were thinking back to the past. He took a moment, then answered thoughtfully. "When Oliver was away on Lian Yu."_

_I playfully hit his arm, laughs to erupt from both of us. _

"_That's horrible, Merlyn." I shook my head and brought my latte to my pink lips, feeling the warmth._

_We made it to Tommy's car five minutes later. I glanced down at my silver watch, an early Christmas present from Oliver, reading the time: 11:05. _

"_Buckle up, Smoak." Tommy smirked. He clicked his seat belt into place, myself following suit. _

_We drove off, the black sky blending in with the dark pavement. The only light emanated off the headlights of passing cars. My stomach started churning. We sped through various neighborhoods and down long roads._

"_Tommy! Slow down!"_

_He made eyes at the rearview mirror. "Felicity, we're late. I just want us to get there. We told them we'd be there at eleven."_

_Hitting a long road, we started sliding, the culprit being black ice. We hit a rough patch, which sent our car spinning. _

"_Tommy!" I yelled, trying to get a response._

_We hit a final patch of ice, causing the car to ram into a tree, head on. The impact knocked me out for a few seconds. _

_I opened my eyes to smoke, and blood. I slowly looked to my left._

_My best friend, Tommy Merlyn, was hunched over the steering wheel, airbag covering his bloody, wounded face. He was motionless. Tears started forming as I reached for his wrist, attempting to feel for a pulse._

_Silence._

_He was dead. Tommy Merlyn had left us, and he was never coming back._


	7. The Enchanter Merlyn

I glanced at the photograph in front of me; there was a worn fold line running through the middle, evidence of delicate treatment. Anger coursed through my body. I started pacing, my feet thinking before my brain. A million thoughts ran through my mind. This situation has escalated to something I couldn't handle on my own.

I noticed some rope on the table in front of me. I tucked the photo neatly in my pocket, being precise enough so it wouldn't bend. Grabbing the rope, I studied the look on Tommy's face. He was scared. He looked like a broken doll, cracked and helpless all from one fatal swoop.

"I'm sorry, Tommy, but I'm going to need to tie you up, to make sure you stay here." I noticed him nod. He sat down in a chair and reached his hands behind his back. He wanted me to do this. He was surrendering.

"Smoak, I'm sorry." Our eyes caught each other's for a moment. His were painted with scorn, and defeat. Mine were painted with anger and reassurance.

"I know, Tommy. I am too." I cut some rope and slipped it over his head. "I'm not going to gag you. I know you're not going to kick and scream, because that's not who you are."

A hint of a smile surfaced. We looked at each other, broken doll to warrior, and took in our final moments before all Hell was presumed to break loose.

"You're right, Smoak. That's not who I am. I want to help you."

There was silence for a stretch. I got up from my knees and started placing items in my pack.

"So, you're on my side now?" The question hurt. It was a question only reserved for ex-best friends, or enemies. Tommy was neither one.

"Felicity, I'll always be on your side."

When Tommy Merlyn called you by your real name, you knew he meant every word that poured out of his mouth.

With that, I left the tent.

I walked out into the camp. Many members of our band were training, or cooking, or doing everyday mundane tasks in order to survive. I kept my eyes glued on the tend directly in front of me.

I cracked my knuckles and assured my brain that moving my feet was necessary. Before taking a step, a sharp pain shot up my chest. This time, it didn't dissipate within seconds. It lingered. It burned. It made itself known to my body. I found myself falling. Everything went dark.

_My eyes burned. My muscles ached. My head was throbbing. I felt an arm across my shoulders. I looked to my left. Oliver was sitting next to me, a look of despair in his eyes. He glanced my way and hugged me tighter. No words needed to be said._

_The coffin was lowered into the ground. Everyone around me was emotional. My mind started wandering. I pictured myself in his place; he would be sitting in my chair, next to Oliver. I would be enveloped in blackness, my mind drifting off to different ways of acceptance. "That should be me." I started muttering. "That should be me." No one, not even Oliver, heard my musings. These thoughts were just reserved for my brain, and my brain alone._

_Wiping tears away, I looked over my right shoulder. His father, Malcom Merlyn, did not look sad. There were no tears. He was not shivering. The look on his face was one of pure hatred. His eyes caught mine, and the look remained. He gaze felt as though he were drilling a hole into my brain. The gaze remained for a couple more dragged out seconds before he got up and exited the ceremony. _

"_Felicity." _

_I heard my name being called and turned around. Oliver still had his gaze on the coffin, as did everyone else around me._

"_Felicity? Can you hear me?"_

_I started looking around. No one spoke. No one was paying attention. Was I going crazy?_

"_C'mon, Felicity. Wake up."_

_I felt as though I were being jolted. I could hear other voices. I gripped my head and hunched over. I fell out of my chair, and was suddenly encompassed by blackness. _

My eyes shot open.

"Thank god. Felicity, are you alright?"

I shook my head and looked at the person that was muttering my name: Oliver. He had a worried expression. We were in his tent. Thea, John, and this kid named Roy were all inside the tent, gathering supplies to help aid in my recovery.

"I'm fine." I removed the covers from my legs and attempted to stand. I managed to stay on my feet. "Where's Laurel? I need to talk to her."

I could feel Oliver's calloused hands on my elbow. John was quickly on my other side, preparing for if I fell over a second time.

"She's in the supply tent. That's where you just came from. Why? What's going on?" I pushed away from them and grabbed my pack that was resting on the floor.

"I'll tell you later. I need to go." I dashed out of the tent and ran in a straight line, arriving at the supply tent merely one minute later.

I pushed open the flap. I dropped my pack in shock, causing everything to spill out.

The rope was neatly coiled on the table. It was in tact. There were no cut marks. The chair was back at the table where it was before. The grass where Tommy was standing was perfectly green.

"Felicity? Do you need something?" Laurel was glancing at a map of the forest, making marks where certain animals and paths resided.

"He was here. He was RIGHT HERE."

Laurel came over and took my shoulders. "Felicity, what is going on? Oliver said he found you passed out in front of the supply tent. Are you okay?"

My breathing became staggered. Sweat appeared on my forehead.

"Where is he, Laurel?"

She looked alarmed. She started taking a few steps back, her hands raised in defense. "Felicity, I don't know what you're talking about. I've been here for the past two hours. No one else has been in here. The tent was empty when I got here."

I slowly placed my hand inside my pocket and retrieved the photo. I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. My breath became short. Laurel grabbed the chair and a water bottle, sitting me down.

There was only one person in the photo. She was short, and blonde, and looked rather young. I looked at Laurel, who was back standing, resuming her work on the maps.

The second person from the photograph completely vanished, like they were never there to begin with. That person, was Laurel Lance.


	8. Heat

The birds sang their daily songs. The wind blew over head, taking my hair with it. Forest surrounded me on all sides; the color green was enveloping me in fresh thoughts, clearing my currently clogged and sporadic mind.

Arrow after rapid arrow flew through the space. They hit the trees every single time. My practice was becoming more known. From first glance, I could appear to be a skilled archer who has appreciated the art since childhood. From first glance, I didn't look like an amateur anymore.

I heard the rustling of leaves and sticks behind me. I whipped around, bow and arrow placed into position. An intense gaze rested on my blue, tired eyes.

"Stand down. It's just me." Oliver formed a smirk on his stubble-induced mouth. I heard a minor chuckle.

I sighed, lowering my bow. I placed both the bow and arrow near the rest of my supplies; I slowly removed my gloves that Oliver gave me as I became more advanced.

"Shouldn't you be back at the camp, making sure that people aren't still calling me 'crazy'?"

In light of the recent Tommy event, members of the outsider camp dubbed me with many monikers, all of them relating to "insane" and "crazy." Oliver would put numerous efforts out, attempting to aid the situation.

"Are we still on that? People have gotten over it by now. You should try it." Another smirk. Another chuckle. Playful banter rested on his lips.

He tossed a water bottle my way. I caught it and began to drink. The cold felt heavenly against the rough, red walls of my throat. Silence formed for some time until I broke it.

"Why are you really here, Oliver?" My arms were over my chest now. I felt stronger. I could see the muscles beginning to form on my arms and legs. It was easier for me to defend myself in high-risk situations, if need be.

"I'm worried about you." He moved closer to me. I noticed the muscles on his arms and across his chest. They poked out of his grey v-neck, distracting me.

I hung my head. The words that just escaped his mouth resonated with me. _Why does he care? _I thought, even though I so desperately wanted to know the answer.

"I'm fine." A blatant lie. Ever since I fainted, I've been experiencing more pain, specifically in my chest area. The same place every single time. It was like the universe, or at least my body, was trying to tell me something. Slow down? Take a break? Those were the current questions.

"No you're not." He took more steps toward me, the forest lessening between us. "You've been with us for a year, Felicity. Don't think I don't know you by now."

I heard a laugh come from my mouth. "Yes, because you can really know every single detail about a person just from knowing them a whole year." I rolled my eyes.

The space separating us was almost nonexistent now. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face which sent a shiver down my spine.

"You're an open book. It's easy to read you." This came out in a whisper. The words rested above my head for a long time, dangling there, waiting for a response. I could not offer one for a few moments. My next words came out broken, but soft.

"If I'm an open open book…" Our eyes were glued on one another. We were studying the other person's face, wondering what they were thinking, and more importantly, feeling. "...you're one with a lock and key. You only allow people you trust to open that book."

His hands were on my arms now. They felt rough, calluses against goosebumps. "Well, it looks like we have a winner, then."

Time seemed to stand still as our lips came together. All the cluttered thoughts previously in my mind vanished. Everything seemed to be perfect-

-except the approaching pain in my chest. This time, it was searing. I found myself collapsing, Oliver's muffled "Felicity! FELICITY." slurring together, until everything went black.

"_Deep breaths. That's it. Just take deep breaths."_

"_I'm fine."_

_I could feel his stern gaze on my back. _

"_You're an open book, Felicity. Don't think I don't know you."_

_She was pacing - fast. Her heart was racing a mile per minute. She could barely hear Oliver's reassurances from over her shoulder. Her hands rested on her hips, the wrinkles from her orange dress touching her skin._

"_Oliver, our best friend's father thinks I killed his son, so I'm sorry if I'm not all rainbows and butterflies at the moment."_

_His hands were on my shoulders seconds later. He rubbed them up and down. My heart rate started returning to its normal cadence. _

"_You are going to get through this. Laurel is a fantastic lawyer. There is no way they're going to agree to a guilty verdict." He moved a stray strand of blonde hair away from my face and fixed my glasses back atop my nose. His smile that resonated was genuine. That was all I needed._

"_I'm sorry. This whole thing has just been really hard."_

_We were hugging now; Oliver was brute, so whenever we hugged, it felt as though he were swallowing me. Hugging Oliver Queen was always, and would forever be, a highlight. _

"_It's hard for me too, Felicity, believe me." We pulled away, now facing each other. "But Tommy wouldn't want you to worry. He would want you to march on and live your life."_

_My red lips formed into a rare smile. "I love you." I whispered._

_He chuckled. "I love you, too."_

_It was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay._


End file.
